


The King and Lionheart

by defenselesswriter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU mafia, M/M, Teen Wolf AU, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 19:48:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defenselesswriter/pseuds/defenselesswriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Completely inspired by <a href="http://hellasterek.tumblr.com/post/66295410571/dylanships-i-really-hope-your-father">this post</a> and I feel that this is the perfect summary for it.</p><p>Also, title from The King and Lionheart by Of Monsters and Men</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really need to stop staring fics when I can't seem to finish any of my others, but I saw this gifset today. And yeah. I just had to, ya know? I HAD to.

The first thing that runs through Stiles’ mind when he wakes up is, _fuck my head hurts_. Then it’s an endless stream of _where the fuck I am?_ as he frantically searches the room for any clues. His first clue is that he’s tied up. The next is that he’s in a burned down house, and that’s when it clicks together.

“Hale,” Stiles greets as the man walks into the room. Well, if you ask Stiles Hale swaggers more than walks. Strut could also be an accurate term to describe the way the mob boss walks.

“So you know who I am?” Hale asks, and there’s this smirk on his face that Stiles suspects is permanent.

“Everyone who isn’t blind, deaf, dead, or just plain stupid knows who you are,” Stiles snaps back. He’s seen this man’s face all over his dinner table as his dad just pours over case after case just trying to get the tiniest bit of substantial evidence that links Derek Hale or the rest of his mafia to a murder or drug trafficking or really any of the crimes that are currently plaguing the once peaceful Beacon Hills. Stiles has seen his dad’s face darken with circles and wrinkles after sleepless nights of stressing. He has seen his dad taken to the whiskey bottle a few too many times while Derek Hale’s face just looks up from the files with that stupid smirk, so yeah. You could say Stiles knows who Derek is.

“So what is this?” Stiles asks as Derek just stares at him silently. “You’re kidnapping the Sheriff’s son to blackmail into stopping to try and throw your criminal asses into jail? Let me tell you something: that’s never gonna happen.”

Derek pulls up a chair, setting it in front of the highly uncomfortable one Stiles is currently tied to by his wrists and ankles. The man sits down, rests his elbows on his knees and starts playing with something black in his hands. Stiles can’t tell what it is.

“Everyone has a breaking point,” Derek answers, talking solely to whatever is in his hands. “And while I concede that the sheriff is an honorable man, I think you underestimate just how much he’s willing to do for you. And if he doesn’t comply…” Then the black mystery object stops being mysterious as Derek pulls the black gloves over each of his hands. “Well I guess we’ll just have to persuade him.”

Stiles tries his hardest to hide every tremor of fear coursing through him and the only way he knows how to do that is to do what he’s good at it: being a sarcastic little shit. “What, are you gonna fulfil every mafia cliché ever and cut off some of my body parts and send them to him as a birthday present?” Stiles doesn’t dare think about how much that would actually crush his father or how much that would hurt himself physically.

Derek stands up and takes a step closer to Stiles, which makes the teenager flinch unintentionally. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?” the man asks with a smile. “I like that. And very brave for someone so utterly terrified.”

Stiles hardens at that. “I’m not scared of you.”

Derek takes another step closer, smiling when Stiles subconsciously leans away again. “Yes you are. And you should be.”

Stiles swallows down his fear and just glares at the man who keeps walking closer and closer to him. His mind runs faster, thinking about all of the things that Derek Hale could do to him and worse, what he could do to this father, what hurting Stiles would do to his father. After losing Stiles’ mom, the sheriff hasn’t been the same. He has been way too overprotective of his son and taught him a lot of self-defense among other things. It’s those other things Stiles is relying on right now.

“I really hope your father cooperates, Stiles. I don’t want to have to hurt you.” Derek looks at him with that smile again, and if he were any other person in the entire world, Stiles could admit that Derek Hale is really attractive. But considering what Derek is about to do to him and his father, Stiles isn’t really willing to admit that.

“Yeah, I’m sure the big bad mafia boss would have a mental breakdown and cry himself to sleep every night if he hurt an innocent child,” Stiles retorts back. “Oh, wait. I forgot. You don’t have a conscience. Guess you won’t have to worry about feeling any remorse if you hurt me.”

Derek just shrugs at that. “It’d be a shame, though, to ruin such a pretty face.”

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself?” Stiles spits back, suddenly a lot angrier at the mob boss in front of him than he was a minute ago. Because seriously? Is the dude gonna rape Stiles too? There’s a good way to convince the sheriff to kill Derek Hale instead of helping him.

“Maybe because there’s someone else I’d much rather fuck,” Derek says with that stupid smirk.

Stiles starts laughing probably a little too much considering the situation because _really_? “Are you coming onto me while holding me hostage? Try wooing me first, Derek. Maybe then you’ll have a chance.”

Derek just laughs, pulling a knife from his pocket. “So where do you think we should start? For obvious reasons, I’ll stay away from your face.”

Stiles’ eyes narrow as Derek steps closer, the knife glinting as it catches the sunlight coming through the windows. The older man gets into his face, the knife pressing softly against his neck.

“What do you think, Stiles?” Derek whispers softly. “You seem to be very opinionated.”

“Fuck you,” Stiles says as he reaches out and punches Derek as hard as he can in the crotch. He misses and hits his gut instead, but it’s good enough. Stiles rushes through untying the knots on his feet before Derek can recover.

Stiles has never been more thankful for his dad’s intensive lessons on how to escape a hostage situation. How to move your wrists in the perfect way to escape rope ties and the quickest way to untie every kind of knot in the entire world.

When Stiles is finally untied and standing up, he knees Derek in the stomach and elbows the side of his head, which effectively knocks the man out. Stiles is also thankful of him and Scott’s constant adventures in the woods because when Stiles runs out of the burned down Hale house, he knows exactly which way leads to the interstate where he can make a car stop, get back to his dad, and finally give the evidence his dad needs to put Derek Hale away for a very, very long time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I can't promise regular updates, but here's this.

Unfortunately, Stiles’ plan doesn’t work out.

He’s so close to the road. He knows he is. He can practically hear the cars speeding by, but then there are arms wrapping around his waist and pulling him back. Immediately, Stiles makes himself as heavy as possible and refuses to stop moving.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” the person shouts, and the voice makes Stiles’ head snap back to look up at his new captor. Someone he knows.

“Erica?” Stiles asks. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Following orders,” she answers vaguely, tightening her grip around Stiles. “What the hell are you doing? You’re a lot heavier than you look.”

Stiles just glares at her. He goes to school with this girl. He is in two classes with this girl, and she works for Derek? Can he trust no one? Not that he talked to Erica all that much at school but still.

“Stop fighting,” she hisses at him. “Make this easier on yourself, Stiles. It’s either I drag you back or I keep you here until Derek comes and he can carry your ass back. He’s a lot more pissed at you than I am.”

Stiles debates his options for a moment and then lets Erica lead him back to the Hale house. “Couldn’t you guys find a better hang out?” he asks when the house comes back into view. “Seriously. This is just sad and pathetic.”

She doesn’t respond, just looks back at him and shrugs as she keeps pulling him around.

He stares at the house angrily because he was so close to escaping. So fucking close. So close to helping his dad put the biggest criminal in Beacon Hills in jail. _Finally_ , but nope. Stiles got caught, and all he has to show for it are his fucked up wrists. Oh, how his dad would be proud.

“How’s Derek doing anyway?” Stiles chirps before they enter the house.

She gives him a dry smile. “He’s pretty pissed, but I’ve never seen anyone catch him by surprise before.”

Stiles just shrugs. “Sheriff’s kid. People should really expect more from me.”

“We will now,” Derek says as they enter the room where Stiles was held captive. “This time, I’m going to expect you not to run if I don’t tie you down.”

“Why not try handcuffs?” Stiles asks. “Those can’t loosen so I wouldn’t be able to escape them.”

“You expect me to believe your father taught you how to escape from rope but not how to pick the lock on handcuffs?” Derek asks, raising one eyebrow as he nods his head at Erica.

His classmate practically throws him back on the chair he was sitting on before. It takes everything in him to not fall over, but he keeps his balance and throws a glare at the back of the blonde’s head as she sashays out of the room. Seriously Stiles didn’t know he would actually need all those synonyms for walking, but they sure are handy for today.

“So you need teenagers to do your dirty work?” Stiles asks, looking back at Derek. “I’m offended that you never recruited me.”

“And would you have come willingly?” Derek counters. “You’re the sheriff’s son.”

Stiles shrugs. “I’m sure you could’ve found a pretty face to convince me to throw away my life and betray my father.”

Derek flinches at that as his face blanches, and it’s like Stiles hit a little too close to home for Derek. For some reason, Stiles can’t scrounge up any guilt for that, but his curious mind does wonder why that affected Derek so much.

“And would your father be convinced to leave me alone if you were in the pack?” Derek asks, eyes darkening slightly as he steps closer. “Tell me, Stiles. Where were we before you so rudely interrupted?”

“I think we were discussing my pretty face,” Stiles says, batting his eyelashes at the man. “How stupid do you think my father is?”

“Excuse me?” Derek asks, arching an eyebrow as he crouches in front of Stiles.

“How stupid do you think my father is?” Stiles repeats, slower this time in case Derek is stupid because he might be.

Confusion flashes across the man’s face. “You think he knows where to come looking for you, don’t you?”

This time it’s Stiles who is confused. “What did you do?”

“Well, for your eighteenth birthday, your best friend decided to take you to the beach for the weekend,” Derek says, looking smug that he outsmarted the teenager. “What a great best friend.”

“Where is Scott?” Stiles yells, flailing out of the chair until Derek’s hand land on his shoulder harshly. Stiles is useless against Derek’s strength keeping him in the stupid chair. “Where. Is. Scott?”

“He’s fine,” Derek answers smoothly, removing his hands once he’s sure Stiles won’t try to escape again. “In fact, he’s around here somewhere. I’m not sure. Isaac was the one who collected him.”

Anger flares through him again. “That’s why he and Isaac were getting closer lately,” Stiles mumbles under his breath, slumping against the chair. “You got one of your goonies to befriend my best friend in an elaborate plan just to kidnap little ole me?”

“You underestimate your importance, Stiles,” Derek tells him. “One scratch on you and your father will do whatever I want.”

Stiles laughs once, shaking his head. “You underestimate his sense of right and wrong.”

“And what’s yours like?”

Stiles looks away, not bothering to answer the question. He changes the subject instead. “So what’s your evil plan to convince my father to let you go?”

At that exact moment, Erica walks back in caring a large black case. “Ready,” she tells Derek.

He steps back from Stiles and puts the chair closer in front of the teenager. Erica sits in the chair, resting the black case on her lap. “Fun fact,” she says lightly as she opens the case, “I’m actually a magician with makeup.”

“We’re going to have a makeover?” Stiles asks, staring at the black case full of makeup and brushes and so many other things that look a lot more frightening than a knife to his neck. “Is Derek gonna braid your hair while you paint my nails?”

She snorts once, pulling out a brush and examining it closely. “Don’t be stupid, Stiles. You’re a smart guy.”

Derek is standing off to the side, watching them closely with a look of doubt on his face until he notices Stiles’ stare. His face hardens up again as he raises an eyebrow at the teenager.

“You guys are seriously going to put fake injuries on me with makeup?” Stiles asks. “You think that’s going to work? Why not just show my dad my wrists?”

Derek glances at Stiles’ wrists with a frown for a moment and shakes his head. “Your dad will know exactly what those are from.”

“Your dad just has to think you’re injured,” Erica says with a shrug. “Not that you have to actually be injured. I do like you, Stiles. In fact, I used to have the biggest crush on you.”

Stiles laughs at that and looks at Derek. “You put her up to lying to me about having a crush on me? You think that’s gonna soften me up?”

Derek shakes his head once. “I didn’t know about her crush on you. If I did, she wouldn’t be here.” His voice hardens as he glares at Erica.

She just shrugs again as she starts applying makeup to Stiles’ face. “I said I used to. I don’t anymore.”

Derek is silent again as he watches Erica closely until his phone starts ringing. He ducks out of the room as he answers it with a harsh, “What?”

“Why are you doing this, Erica?” Stiles asks under his breath after the man leaves the room.

“Because I’d rather put makeup on you than ruin my nails beating you up,” she says flippantly, eyes not looking away from her work.

“You know what I meant.”

She sighs and sits back for a moment to look him in the eye. “I was nothing at school. I’m not that smart. I’m not talented in anyway. People saw me as the girl who had seizures during class. Derek helped me cure my epilepsy and now I’m something. Sometimes I get to even beat people up. It’s therapeutic for my anger issues.”

“That’s your reason for being in a gang?” Stiles asks.

“Isn’t it always about wanting somewhere to belong?” she counters as she goes back to applying the makeup.

“Better hurry it up, Erica,” Derek snaps as he walks back into the room. “We have a shipment coming in tomorrow night and we need the sheriff on our side by then.”

She sets down her brush and lets Derek examine her work. “Do you wanna smack him around a bit just to add in some authenticity?”

Derek shoots her a glare and then shoos her out of the room after she takes a few pictures of Stiles’ face. He gets yelled at a few times to make the injuries look convincing, so he glares at them in retort which apparently is exactly what they wanted.

“So my dad didn’t want your blood money?” Stiles asks once they’re alone again.

Derek turns to him with a glare. “I don’t just give police officers money, Stiles. That’s illegal.”

Stiles laughs once. “And you’re such a lawful citizen?”

“If I had offered your father money, he would have reason to put me in jail. No, it’s much subtler than that.”

“And kidnapping and ‘torturing’ his son is legal and subtle?”

Derek shrugs. “Your father would do anything to keep you safe. I show him that you’re in danger, then he has no other choice than to do what I want.”

“And what do you want?”

Derek stops and stares at Stiles for a moment. “I want to find the person responsible for killing my sister.”

“I thought that was you?” Stiles says, confused.

Derek shakes his head, leaning back in the chair. “I only came back to Beacon Hills when my sister went missing. I came back home to find my last living relative dead.”

Stiles tells himself not feel bad for the evil mobster, but come on. That must have sucked. Stiles remembers seeing teenage Derek around town before his family died in the fire. He remembers what an actual smile looks on the dude’s face, and Stiles just thinks what if he went out of town and came back to find his father dead? How much would that fuck him up?

“So you decided to become a killer yourself?” Stiles retorts.

Derek leans back in the chair, folding his arms across his chest as he smirks at Stiles. “How many people do you think I’ve killed, Stiles?”

“You personally or how many you’ve ordered cement shoes for?”

Derek laughs once. “This isn’t a mafia cliché. What if I told you that I’ve never killed anyone?”

“I wouldn’t believe you,” Stiles answers honestly. “If you didn’t kill them, then who did?”

Derek’s smirk drops for a second as he stares at the ground instead of his hostage. “Your dad’s the sheriff. Shouldn’t he be figuring that one out?”

“He did figure it out,” Stiles says defensively because his dad is a great sheriff. “You’re the one killing people or at least it’s your gang.”

Derek just shakes his head. “We’ve roughed some people up, but only the people who deserve it. You’re so quick to assume I’m such a horrible person.”

“You kidnapped me,” Stiles says slowly. “I feel like that’s plenty reason for me to question your integrity.”

“I only do what has to be done to protect the ones I love,” Derek answers, looking off to the side before leaning closer to Stiles, elbows on his knees. “You’d be smart to remember that.”

Stiles wants to lash out at him, wants to just reach over and punch him in the face because the dude is so close, but he doesn’t. He can’t. “Then we have something in common, Hale,” Stiles finally says. “Since you understand so well, show me that Scott is okay.”

Derek’s smirk is back as he sits back up in his chair since he’s done trying to be all intimidating to Stiles. It’s obviously not working. “Scott isn’t here.”

Stiles doesn’t understand what he hears at first and then he huffs. “You _lied_ to me?”

An eyebrow arches. “You’re surprised that I lied to you?”

Stiles’ eyes narrow at the stupid man in front of him, and he sighs. “I guess I thought you respected me more than that, but if Scott isn’t here, then where is he?”

Derek glances at his phone and shrugs. “Whatever eighteen year olds do on a Friday night I suppose.”

Stiles frowns. “You never kidnapped him, did you? Then why hasn’t my dad found me yet?”

“You’ve only been gone since after school. He works nights on Fridays, doesn’t he?”

Stiles runs a hand through his hair and groans. “You really planned this out, didn’t you?”

Derek shrugs. “I don’t like surprises.” Stiles gets a very significant glare for that one, but hey. It’s not his fault people continuously underestimate him. Continuously meaning all the fucking time.

They sit in silence for a while as Stiles studies his captor. This isn’t exactly what he expected. For one, there are far less injuries than he thought there would be, considering the only injuries he have were self-inflicted. Well, Stiles could blame Derek for those ones, and he kind of does. But honestly this hostage situation is a lot more chill than he expected.

“So are you going to starve me?” Stiles asks. “Because that’s probably the worst form of torture.”

“I’m not going to torture you, Stiles,” Derek tells exasperatedly. Then he pulls out his phone and types something on it. “Erica will bring you something soon.”

“Are we just going to sit here all night staring into each other’s eyes?” he asks because Stiles is bored, okay? _Bored_. Who knew kidnapping could be so boring? “Because I’m learning some deep things about your soul, man. That and it’s getting kind of romantic in here. Do you think we could light a few candles? Oh, and next time you tie me up, it better be under different circumstances, if you know what I mean.”

Derek just stares for a moment before sighing and shaking his head. “Are you coming onto me? What, are you getting Stockholm syndrome after five hours?”

Stiles glares at him because did the dude just make a joke? Really? And is Stiles actually considering liking the guy because of one joke? This is ridiculous. What kind of messed up situation is this? Maybe Stiles does have Stockholm syndrome.

Unfortunately or fortunately (depends on how you want to look at it) Stiles doesn’t get to think more into his possible Stockholm syndrome symptoms. His conversation with Derek is rudely interrupted by Erica bursting into the room. Stiles is disappointed to see that she is lacking the food he was promised because _duh_. He’s a teenage boy; he needs food.

But he gets distracted by her distressed face because for some reason, Erica is freaking out. Erica doesn’t do that not even after having a seizure in the middle of the gym. From what Stiles has seen of her, she’s a very well put together person and judging from Derek’s worried look from seeing her face, he’s guessing that his assumptions are correct.

“You need to get him out of here,” Erica says, voice and face completely serious.

That’s when Stiles hears the gunshots. “What the fuck?” he exclaims, jumping out of his chair. “Who is here?” He knows it’s not his dad. His dad would not come barging in here with guns blazing. Plus, he doesn’t think his dad even knows he is missing yet.

“Erica, delete the photos and get as far from here as you can,” Derek commands and then walks over to grab the back of Stiles’ shirt. “Come on.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly just background stuff and talking and yeah. Enjoy!

“Whoa, I’m not going with you,” Stiles says, stopping in his tracks. “Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere where you will be safe,” Derek tells him in a slow tone and he looks like he’s about to lost patience with the teenager and just pick him up and go.

“Who’s here?” Stiles asks.

Derek is dragging him again until Stiles ducks out of his grasp, making the man whirl around to face him. “I don’t have time to explain right now. You’re coming with me, and I will tell you what you need to know later.”

Stiles stares at him for a moment until there is another gunshot, the bullet only a yard away from the two of them, which makes Stiles’ decision for him. He hightails it out there, following closely behind Derek. Bullets are still permeating through the air around them as they dodge them as best they can. Derek takes Stiles out the back way and practically shoves him into a very small car. And if they weren’t running for their lives, Stiles would have said something, but circumstances aren’t allowing that.

They speed away, and if they were on gravel the tires probably would’ve made the really cool squealing noise. Alas, they’re in the forest and while Stiles may be dodging literal bullets here, he still doesn’t have the excitement of squealing tires. Damn.

He automatically knows they’re headed to the main road because a) logic and b) he knows the preserve better than the back of his hand. Okay well not better than the back of his hand but still. You get the point. Stiles knows the forest; he’s got this.

“Can you tell me where we’re going now?” Stiles asks after five whole minutes of silence and he gets impatient easily. So sue him.

“My apartment,” Derek answers through a clenched jaw.

Stiles blinks at him. “God are you an idiot? You’re taking the sheriff’s son, who you know is looking for any information that he can give his father to send you to jail and _you’re taking him to your apartment?_ ”

“No one knows where it is except for me and a few trusted others. Not even Erica knows where it is.” Derek side eyes him. “You’ll be safe there.”

Stiles waits another minute before continuing, “You’re making no moves to knock me unconscious. I have a really good eye for detail. I can find this place if you ever let me go.”

Derek rolls his eyes, the _asshole_. “1. _When_ I let you go. I’m not keeping your forever, Stiles. You know, unless you actually think about joining me.”

“You never offered,” Stiles snaps, trying not to be offended about that still. Why wasn’t he offered though? Stiles is an awesome person to have in a gang. Super smart. Super sneaky. Good thing his dad is the sheriff otherwise he may or may not have gone to the dark side by now.

“ _Secondly_ ,” Derek sneers, glaring at Stiles for interrupting him. “I doubt after what I have to say, you’ll still want your dad to convict me.”

And well. Stiles doesn’t have a comeback for that one. Except that he’s really curious because Derek wholeheartedly believes that whatever he tells Stiles is reason enough for all the crimes he has committed. “If you can prove you’re not guilty for any of this stuff, then why haven’t you gone to the police before?” Stiles can’t help but ask.

Derek huffs at that. “Stiles, your dad has been trying to get a something concrete on me for two years now. I’ve seen him watching me at the grocery store, hoping to catch me for petty theft. To answer your question, I haven’t gone to the police because they can’t touch me. They don’t have any evidence against me because _there isn’t any_.”

“Then why not tell them that? You know who committed all those crimes, killed those people. I know you know. Why not help the good guys if you think you’re one?”

“I never said I was a good guy,” Derek says darkly, pulling off the interstate. “I just haven’t done what your father thinks I’ve done. I’m not going to tell them anything because they don’t need to be involved. I’m trying to keep them away. It’s dangerous.”

“Well, I’m definitely rethinking my decision on whether or not I want to join your recruits,” Stiles says nonchalantly as they pull into an apartment complex.

“You were thinking of joining and didn’t ever think it to be dangerous?” Derek asks, his voice deathly dry.

Stiles scoffs. “No, I was going to flat out say ‘no’ no matter what until you said how dangerous it is.” He flashes the mob boss a cheeky smile. “Danger is my best friend.”

“Oh thank god you didn’t say middle name. I was debating on my sanity for dealing with you this long if you were going to say that.”

“Ha! Mob boss got jokes,” Stiles laughs until Derek’s phone rings again and the man’s eyes look like they flash red at it. But that can’t happen. Because like human’s eyes don’t change color. “Oh, shit you’re a werewolf, aren’t you?”

Good thing they were already going slow because for whatever reason, Derek slams on the breaks. Good thing they were already parked too. Either way, Stiles is thrown forward towards the dash and good thing he’s the son of a man in law enforcement and was ingrained to always wear a seatbelt.

“How did you know?” Derek asks.

“Your eyes just flashed red. Dude, your phone is ringing. Aren’t you gonna answer it?” Stiles gestures at the phone and debates on making a grab for it just because he’s a nosey little shit.

Derek glares at him, a growl escaping and damn. This dude is definitely a werewolf. Stiles doesn’t know how he didn’t see it before. Ignoring the teenager in the car that knows too much, Derek answers the phone with his seemingly habitual, “ _What_?”

Stiles wonders if even looks at caller id before automatically growling the question into his phone. He supposes maybe he was super werewolf powers that tell him who is calling? Not that Stiles has heard of those. The standard supernatural strength, beta shift, full shift, and magical healing he has all heard of. But not the caller id thing.

“Good to know… _Erica, don’t you dare_ ,” he growls out, his eyes definitely red this time and oh shit. He mad. Then he hangs up the phone like telling Erica not to do something is going to actually stop her. News flash. It’s not. Has he met Erica? Stiles has barely talked to her and knows her better than that.

Then Derek is getting out of the car, so Stiles follows suit and has to jog to keep up with Derek as the man sets his path to his apartment. They go up four flights of stairs because Derek is too good for elevators or something. Whatever. By the time they actually get into the apartment, Stiles is way out of breath.

He leans against the front door and surveys his surroundings. It’s pretty sparse and there are no personal items anywhere. Just a couch, armchair, small kitchen, and a tiny table with two chairs. Just wow. Stiles is guessing there’s a bedroom somewhere and he also guesses that it’s as intricately decorated as the rest of the place.

“So how do you know about werewolves?” Derek asks, leaning against the counter and watching Stiles closely.

For a moment, Stiles wonders if he should lie or tell the truth. He can control his heartbeat enough to lie, which was hella weird when Chris first hooked him up to the polygraph. Like super weird. Chris was adamant that it would help Stiles in the future and at the time, Stiles was wondering if he was supposed to become an accomplice to the man that would involve him needing to lie for him, but after learning about werewolves, it all made a lot more sense and wasn’t as weird anymore and in fact super helpful as of right now.

“Well, it started off with my dad wanting me to have the best self-defense possible, so he sent me to Chris Argent for shooting lessons while my dad was at work. His daughter and I trained together and I learned how to use some really cool things like crossbows and shit. Anyway, then it got to hand-to-hand combat and then when I was sixteen, my best friend got bit by a wolf except there are no wolves in California. I figured out he was a werewolf and we tried to keep it secret until Argent figured it out and asked me if I wanted to become a hunter and I said no thanks. It was chill so then he gave me the quick version of werewolves and that he already taught me how to protect myself from one.”

“You’re an ally of Chris Argent?” Derek growls. “Fuck. Of course you are.”

Stiles snorts. “No, I’m not an ally of his. I’m just an acquaintance at best. He seems a little too trigger happy to be my ally. It’s just me and Scott.”

“I didn’t know Scott was one,” Derek admits softly. “Isaac would’ve told me.”

“While I got the low down on werewolf history, Scott got a brief course in how to not be super obvious about being a werewolf courtesy of Dr. Deaton, Beacon Hills resident veterinarian and supernatural guru.” Stiles wanders over and sits on the couch, propping his feet on the coffee table.

“Please make yourself at home,” Derek mumbles.

“I plan to,” Stiles answers. “Your turn.”

Derek sighs and goes to sit in the armchair, staring at Stiles the entire time. “It makes my story a little easier since you know about werewolves and I don’t have be vague about it.” Derek leans back, stretching his back slightly so his shirt rises up, showing a sliver of skin that Stiles has thoughts of licking but then stops himself because wow inappropriate. This dude kidnapped him for fuck’s sake.

“When I was sixteen, I met Kate Argent and ‘fell in love’ with her. Then she burned down my house with most of my family in it. My sister and I moved to New York. Killings started up around here, so she went to go see about it since Beacon Hills is still Hale territory. She went missing. I came here to check it out, found her dead and that there was a rogue alpha terrorizing the poor people of Beacon Hills.”

“Dude, with the bitter sarcasm, calm down. Not everyone is out to get you.” But Stiles remembers that time of animal attack after animal attack. “That’s the alpha that bit Scott.”

“That was my uncle who killed Laura for the alpha powers,” Derek continues, looking absolutely done with his life, and can anyone blame him?

“What does it mean to be an alpha?” Stiles asks.

“You don’t already know?” Derek looks all condescending and Stiles wants to make a snide comment but just shakes his head. “An alpha is the strongest a werewolf can get. You can tell who is an alpha by the color of their eyes – red. You have to kill an alpha to become one or it’s passed down in the family. Laura got it after my mom died in the fire. Peter got it from killing Laura. I got it from killing Peter. Alphas are the only werewolves that can change a human into a werewolf.”

“Isaac and Erica,” Stiles guesses, remembering her saying that Derek cured her epilepsy.

“And Boyd, but he didn’t approve of my plan of kidnapping you, so he sat this one out,” Derek answers easily.

“Okay awesome,” Stiles says, leaning his elbows on his knees. “That doesn’t explain all the recent killings and fights and gunshots heard in the middle of the night and sudden inflation of drugs.”

“Would you believe me if I told you it was the hunters?” Derek asks, looking suddenly very interested in Stiles’ reaction. “Would you believe that all I’ve been doing is trying to stop them?”

For a reaction that Derek is so invested in, it takes a while to happen. Stiles isn’t sure what to think at this point. That there’s a different mafia from Derek’s, the one that is actually doing all the killing and drug smuggling and everything. “I want to say no, but I think I actually do. Believe you that is. So what we thought was just one gang is actually two gangs fighting for territory?”

Derek shrugs. “In the most simplistic of terms, I suppose so. If they think I’m the mob boss that keeps them away from the Argents, which is my intention. I need to them to stay away from the hunters. Too many innocents have been caught in the cross-fires at this point.”

“Whoa the _Argents_?” Stiles exclaims. “I believe the hunters but no way would Chris or Ally would hurt innocents.”

“They’re not involved, but the rest of the family is. Chris’ father, Gerard is the leader and Kate is second in command.”

Stiles nods, taking in the information. “And what’s the point of kidnapping me? What makes you think I won’t tell my dad?”

“Because telling your dad the truth will put him in danger, and you won’t put your dad in danger,” Derek answers easily. “The point of kidnapping you was to convince your dad to stay away, to stop sticking his nose in it. He’s getting way too close to the truth. I know he has been going over the house fire file, and that’s where it all starts. If he starts piecing things together, and he will because he’s smart, then he will be in danger.”

“Is that a threat?” Stiles asks, sitting up straight and trying to look intimidating because _no one_ threatens his dad.

“No, Stiles, that’s a fact, and it’s the reason you’re going to help me.”


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles outright laughs at that statement. “Oh, my god. Good joke, man. Good joke.” He can barely catch his breath because he’s laughing so hard. He wipes at his eyes, tears forming from the laughter and looks at Derek. “ _Me_? Help _you_? I don’t think so.”

“And why not?” Derek asks. “Your moral compass is too weak to ignore innocent people being killed?”

Stiles sobers up at that, staring at Derek more seriously. “I’m 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones. What do you think I can do to help a pack of werewolves?”

“Glad you asked,” Derek says with a creepy ass smile. “Chris knows you. Perhaps has some hope of you becoming a hunter. So accept his offer. Once word gets around that I kidnapped you, the hunters won’t have a hard time believing your sudden turn on werewolves.”

“Has this been your plan all along?” Stiles asks, glaring hard. “Because that’s really stupid of you to just assume I’m gonna sacrifice myself for your stupid pack.”

Derek just smirks at him like he knows something Stiles doesn’t. “I just came up with this plan when you told me you were relatively close with Argent. And the reason you will help me isn’t the innocent people dying. You don’t care enough about that to risk yourself. No, of course not. You’re going to help me because it will keep your father safe and it will keep Scott safe.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Scott is a master at blending in. No one knows he’s a werewolf except Chris and Ally and both of them have been sworn to secrecy.”

“And it’s sweet of you to think you can trust an Argent,” Derek says with a dark laugh. “But I was born a werewolf, have been trained to control it all of my life. I had one slip up in front of you despite twenty-two years of experience not to. Hunters are trained to see this, to pick a werewolf out of a crowd of thousands. One small slip up in front of them will cost Scott his life. Which is why you will help me to stop them.”

If Stiles were a werewolf, his eyes would be flashing yellow and fangs would be out by now. He’s angry. Fucking _pissed_ at Derek for just assuming all of this even if it correct. He hates that Derek picked up on enough of this stuff about him to know exactly how to corner him into helping him.

“Fuck you,” Stiles grits out.

Derek outright laughs at him, the fucking dick. “Welcome to the Hale pack, Stiles. Do you want the bite?”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “I’ve been offered it before and the answer is the same as it was the first time. _No_.”

“Who offered you it before?” Derek asks, confused.

“Your uncle, rogue alpha. You know.” Stiles shrugs, scratching at his face and getting makeup all over his fingers. “Damn it. Can I wash this off yet?”

Derek nods. “Erica has already sent the pictures to your dad. He’ll be at the Hale house in the morning. Just him. We already planned the meeting. I’ll get you something to eat and then you can rest.”

“What about when my dad sees my uninjured face, huh? Think that through yet?”

“Well, he already agreed to my conditions, so that’s your problem now. Have fun explaining that to him.”

And that’s when Stiles comes to the conclusion that he absolutely abhors Derek Hale.

*

The reunion between sheriff and son is emotional with a bruising hug. Seriously. The hug is the longest hug ever between the Stilinski men and Stiles’ dad has never held him so tight. He allows it because he’s hugging his dad just as hard. Being kidnapped is kind of a traumatic experience even if his was a lot chiller than expected from infamous mobster Derek Hale.

There’s no one at the house, no werewolves, no one. Derek dropped him off an hour before the meet-up time and grunted what Stiles translated as a simple, “We’ll be in touch.” Which wasn’t reassuring at all in the slightest.

Then the sheriff asked the dreaded question after they were in the car, headed home and not to the station. “Weren’t you injured last night?”

Stiles runs a finger over his now clean face and laughs once. “Well, funny story, Pops. One of his goonies is a makeup guru and that didn’t want to hurt me unless it was absolutely necessary. Plus, I think Derek might have a thing for me. He called my face pretty.” _Ha_ take that, Derek!

“Did he do something to you that you didn’t want?” his dad asks in his dad tone, not his sheriff one surprisingly.

Stiles hurriedly shakes his head. “Aside from kidnapping me and putting itchy makeup on my face? No other than that he was the perfect gentleman and my virtue is still intact, but thanks for asking!”

Stiles’ dad sighs, looking slightly exasperated with his son as always, which is a lot better than the blatant fear and worry that he had when Stiles first saw him this morning. On the way home, they stop at the diner they go to every Sunday morning for breakfast.

“You two are a day early,” Maggie comments with a smile when they sit down in a booth.

“Both of us are busy tomorrow,” the sheriff easily lies with a smile. Stiles just pretends to study the menu.

“Usual for both of you?” she asks, and Stiles’ dad nods.

“Can I get coffee instead of orange juice?” Stiles asks before she can write down his order of pancakes, scrambled eggs, sausage links, and bacon with orange juice.

She gives him a weird look but nods, writing it down. Once she leaves, Stiles’ dad, who’s overly observant, questions Stiles’ drinking choices.

He shrugs. “It’s a stress reliever for me. Plus, I haven’t had my Adderall yet today, so everything is kind of fuzzy.”

His dad nods, allowing it just this once probably. He doesn’t like when Stiles has coffee. Correction: _no one_ likes when Stiles has coffee. He’s much more hyper and talkative after a cup than he is when he overdoses on his Adderall. After the Great Coffee Catastrophe of 2009, Scott and his dad have both banned Stiles from _ever_ drinking any kind of coffee ever. That was four years ago, though. Stiles is eighteen now. He’s an _adult_. Surely he can handle his coffee now.

More importantly, Stiles needs to plan out how he’s going to become a hunter, how he’s going to convince Argent that after vehemently denying his offer he wants to be a hunter _now_. He doesn’t have many injuries on him, just the rope burn on his wrist that stings whenever he bends his wrists, but it’s really not that bad. Not bad enough for him to suddenly change alliances. Maybe he could work up the emotional trauma of it all.

Turns out, Stiles worrying is for nothing because when he and his dad get home, there’s an SUV parked in front of their house, waiting for them. As the Stilinski men exit the cruiser, Argent gets out of his car, leaning against the passenger side door. He nods at Stiles’ dad in greeting, who looks between them and sighs, going inside. His dad has asked multiple times what is going on, and Stiles just claims that he and Chris keep in contact and sometimes brush over training so Stiles doesn’t get rusty. It’s partially true.

“So rumor has it you were kidnapped last night.” It’s not a question. It never is with Argent.

Stiles just nods. “Not exactly something that needs to be known, but yes.”

“By Alpha Hale.”

“No one told me he was an alpha,” Stiles says pointedly, narrowing his eyes at Argent. “We may not be partners or even on the same side most of the time, but I have a right to know when there are other werewolves in this territory.”

“And what makes you think you have that right, Stiles?” Argent asks, turning to face Stiles. “You’re not a hunter, and you have no treaty with us. We owe you nothing.”

Stiles’ glare hardens. “You owe me information that could save mine or my dad’s lives. You have no idea what I’ve been through in the last twenty-four hours. Especially since it was _your men_ who fired guns at me.”

All he gets in response is an eyebrow raise, so Stiles keeps going. “At first I didn’t realize Hale was a werewolf. Then he made a mistake, and I knew… I…I didn’t think werewolves could be that evil. The threats he made to my dad. Fuck. I need to do something, Chris.” Stiles looks at him pleadingly. “I didn’t think werewolves were evil, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe Scott is just an outlier.”

Argent studies him for a silent moment, eyes raking over Stiles’ body, assessing. If Stiles can lie easily to a werewolf, then lying to a hunter is really not much of an issue. He just doesn’t know how well his acting is. He sighs, turning away from Argent and running a worried hand through his hair, hissing at the pain it causes his wrist.

“Let me see,” Argent demands, so Stiles place his wrist in the man’s hand. He studies it for a moment. “Rope burn?”

Stiles nods.

“Any other injuries?”

Stiles shakes his head. “They were more eager with the emotional trauma than physical. I think he really just wanted to get to my dad.”

Argent hums in response, dropping his wrist. “I’ll talk to my family about it. We’ve been waiting for to join us, Stiles.” He turns around and climbs back into his car.

Stiles couldn’t believe how easy it was. Because that? That was nothing.

“Stiles,” his dad calls from inside, and great. This is when lockdown starts. Stiles is officially never allowed to leave the house again because he’s “in danger”.

If only his dad knew.

But wait. Isn’t that why he’s in this mess? Because his dad knows _too_ much?

With a sigh, Stiles heads back into the house because his dad does sound really worried, and he knows the man is worried. He does. If the roles were reversed, Stiles would never let his dad out of his sight, but it’s going to make secret meetings with Derek that much harder.

“Why was Argent here?” his dad demands once Stiles steps foot in the house. “He doesn’t know about yesterday, does he?”

Stiles shakes his head. “I, uh, texted him while we were at breakfast. Told him I wanted to brush up on my self-defense and maybe advance a little more. After yesterday, I just…ya know.”

His dad’s face falls and softens, making Stiles feels twenty times guiltier than he already did for lying. He hates lying to his dad, but it’s for his safety.

“So if I randomly leave the house or don’t come home after school,” Stiles pauses, hunching his shoulders, “I’ll be at the Argent’s house.”

“So Chris agreed to this?” his dad asks. “If I were to call him right now and ask him about it, he would agree with everything you’ve told me?”

Stiles nods because he and Chris have an agreement that his dad isn’t allowed to know about the supernatural. An agreement that is taken much more seriously now especially since Argent thinks Derek threatened his dad. He hates that the lies are building up, but all of them are to protect his dad because he means more to Stiles than anyone else in this world, and nothing will touch him if Stiles has any say about it.

His dad accepts the information with a sigh. “Fine, but no going anywhere else. Scott can come here, but you can’t go out with Scott. Not until I catch Hale.”

“Yes, sir,” Stiles say, saluting his father.

The sheriff gives an exasperated smile and a shake of his head. “I’m going to hit the sack. No going out.”

“I heard you the first time.”

“Oh, I know. I’m just emphasizing my point.”

Stiles rolls his eyes as his dad walks up the stairs, thankful that his dad is the heaviest sleeper ever and that the man doesn’t check Stiles’ phone. Despite that, Derek’s name is saved under Alpha Eyebrows instead of Derek Hale because it would be highly suspicious if Stiles randomly got a call from his dad’s number one enemy/Stiles’ kidnapper. Alpha Eyebrows is much easier to explain.

But since he can’t go out, and Scott is allowed here.

“Hey, buddy,” Stiles answers when his best friend picks up the phone. Even though Derek promised he was okay, relief still floods through Stiles when he hears his best friend alive and well over the phone. “Come over?”

Scott yawns over the phone. “Stiles, you realize it’s like eight in the morning, right?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Lot happened last night that you should be updated on,” Stiles says, biting the cuticle on his thumb.

When Scott responds he sounds a lot more awake. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Stiles quickly answers. “We have a furry situation on his hands.” It’s been their code for two years now, something not super suspicious that their parents would question why their sons are talking about werewolves. This way, Melissa and the sheriff just think their sons are being weird as always.

“I’m on my way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I did say I'd post this every other Sunday...it's just been a few Sundays is all. Please accept my apologies.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's [my tumblr!](http://dude-its-bcn-hlls.tumblr.com)


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